D. Archuleta/D. Cook, (reaching out) touching me, touching you
(AI7) DAVID ARCHULETA/DAVID COOK
Rating: NC17
Pairing: David Archuleta/David Cook
Fandom: American Idol (real person slash)
Warnings: slash, real person slash, descriptions of an explicit nature
Disclaimer: I do not own these people because they own themselves. I want an Archie of my own, though. Badly.
A/N: So no one really approved my claim at cookleta_ptof but hey, who says no to porn, right? Bipolar-mood is looking up, though. I'm not even going to apologize for the descriptive wordiness of it all. Number 67 - in the back of a limo
By: writingpickle
-
(reaching out) touching me, touching you
-
David Cook had the bad habit of tearing up over (admittedly) sentimental moments. Like that time his high school crush had agreed to go to prom with him. Or when he’d met Neal Tiemann for the first time and the other man, ever caustic, had clapped him on the back and said, “Dude, you’ve got real talent,” when he’d feared the opposite (of course, that moment had been greatly altered for future retellings - without the tears - and Neal went along with it because it was great blackmail material).
Winning American Idol was perhaps the one exception where his tears were called for. And afterwards, when Cook had kissed (and fondled) David Archuleta in his exhilaration and prompted the confession that was the beginning of everything.
So it was a well-established fact that David Cook was a considerable sap who often seized on any excuse to cry. The sight of David (who was supposed to be flying back home to Utah after his recently ended tour) in a dark suit, holding a bouquet of blood-red roses in his arms, and standing in front of a sleek limo had Cook blinking back tears.
“Happy birthday,” David beamed, eyes crinkled and glowing.
“Oh my god,” Cook said and quickly drew the younger boy in for a crushing hug as David thrust the arm carrying the roses away from the hold. “What are you doing here?”
David tilted his head back, expression mischievous. “Aren’t you happy I’m here? Oh gosh, Cook, after all the effort I put - ”
Cook kissed him, cutting off the teasing words. “I’m definitely,” peck, “completely,” smooch, “utterly,” kiss, “ecstatic that you’re here, baby. I meant, you’re supposed to be on your way to Utah. But god, it’s so good to see you.”
David laughed and shook his head. “It’s your birthday, we have to celebrate it! Besides, I missed you too much,” he said with a shy curve of lips. “Oh, here, I bought you these.”
Cook got an armful of roses and he grinned affectionately at the shorter boy. “Thanks baby, I feel like a princess right now.”
David rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Come on, you need to be dressed and ready in exactly thirty minutes or our dinner reservations will be totally cancelled.”
“We’re…eating out?”
“I didn’t just, like, rent the limo for effect,” David said with a huff and pushed the older man towards the house.
Cook let himself be led away. “I was wondering why Janet insisted on dry-cleaning my one good suit. Sneaky, did you get my assistant to collaborate with you?”
“I had to make sure you were free,” David muttered as color flooded his cheeks.
Cook wondered how long David had been planning this, especially since the younger boy didn’t have all that much free time during his Christmas tour. He also thought about Lupe and Jeff and what they thought of this unexpected visit. He decided not to bring that up tonight, especially since it was obvious how much work David put into this. Before Cook went into his bedroom, he grabbed the boy’s hand and drew him in for another kiss, expertly parting David’s lips and snaking his tongue inside. David hummed and melted against him, before his eyes widened and he pushed Cook away.
“Reservations!” David said with a firm shove towards the door. “Here, give me those flowers. I can, I’ll put them in a vase for you.”
Cook handed them over and jogged into his bedroom. It was a good thing that he’d taken a quick shower before David had arrived (that boy was ridiculously lucky sometimes), so it took less time to prepare. He took the suit from the closet and put it on, doing the cufflinks and forgoing the tie. He undid the top buttons on his shirt, letting a hint of skin peek through, and ran a comb through his hair. Cook heard David’s singing float through the open door, which deepened the grin that lingered on his face. Fuck, he loved that boy so much.
When he was satisfied with his appearance (much quicker than usual because David was standing outside his door in an unsubtle attempt to hurry him), Cook was about to walk out when he remembered something. He went over to the bedside table and took out a yellowed piece of paper and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He grinned; David was just asking for it, with the limo and all. He wouldn’t put it past the younger boy to have set this whole thing up just to cross out that number. It didn’t fit with David’s image at all, but then again, neither did ‘gets turned on by bar fights.’
He stopped in front of David and spread his arms. “Do I fit the bill?”
David looked at him from under his lashes, a sassy head to toe assessment with his lips pulled in a secretive smile that had Cook’s blood in a slow boil. “I think you’ll do.”
-
The inside of the limo was luxurious, from the wine-colored leather upholstery, the wood and leather on the doors and panels, and a black privacy panel that separated them from the hired driver.
Cook stretched on the seat, appreciative of the spacious leg room, and dropped his arm on David’s shoulders. “Where are we having dinner, babe?”
“That’s a secret.”
“Are you going to blindfold me too?”
“Um,” David wrinkled his nose. “I think, are you referring to something else?”
Cook laughed. “Maybe on your birthday, David.”
David stared at him for a moment, unblinking, until Cook’s forehead wrinkled. The younger boy glanced down at his watch. “David?”
Without a word, David moved forward and pressed on the button that had the privacy panel sliding down halfway. “Um, excuse me, could you circle the block a few times? Or um, until I say it’s okay to head to the restaurant?”
The driver glanced at him from the rearview mirror. “Yeah,” the man grunted and David let the panel go back up all the way.
“What about our reservation?” Cook asked, confused. “Babe? Are we heading somewhere else?”
David turned to him, cheeks flushed and eyes dark. “No. I think I should give you a part of your birthday present early.”
Then David fell to his knees in that wide space and wriggled up between Cook’s legs.
Desire made his mouth dry, desire so hot that Cook swayed a bit (it could have been the sudden turn the car took but he doubted it because fuck, David was right there, wetting his lips and undoing Cook’s pants). One of his hands gripped David’s hair, which was its usual place whenever David was in this position. David licked his lips again, leaving them partly open, as he drew out Cook’s already thick erection from his pants (thank God Cook followed his instinct not to wear underwear tonight).
Just the feel of his warm hand, after so long without it, had Cook sucking in a deep breath. “Fuck, David.”
“You’d like that,” David murmured huskily as he licked the head almost playfully, eliciting a groan. His other hand gripped Cook’s thigh and as he lowered his head, the shadows on his face twisted the corners of his mouth into a smirk. Maybe he was smirking, knowing that he had Cook in his control.
Cook was panting, arching his hips wantonly. He goddamn loved it when David was aggressive, which didn’t happen enough, and he let out a loud moan when his dick sank into the wet (wet, so wet) and warm cavern of David’s mouth. His fingers weaved tightly through the boy’s short hair, tugging lightly at the suction he felt all around his cock, his legs spreading apart and tensing from the pleasure.
David’s eyes flickered up to his, hooded and heavy and dilated, and pulled back up, tracing his tongue along the pulsing vein. “I’ve missed your taste, Cook.”
Cook gritted his teeth, hips snapping up at the gritty-want sound of David’s voice. To his alarm, he couldn’t find the voice to say anything, so choked up on the hazy red cloud that settled over him. David kept on murmuring as he bobbed his head, sucking him in and out, in and out, in and out. Cook’s free hand scrabbled against the leather seat as he tried his best to keep his gaze in David’s.
David reached into Cook’s pants and fondled his balls, rolling them in his palm one by one, lips tightening around the base. He dragged them up in an agonizingly slow motion, went back down, and let his teeth graze ever so lightly on the shaft. Cook’s breath hitched and he felt like all the air was leaving his body; his chest felt too tight, his head spinning from the sensations that originated from where his boy touched him.
“Oh Cook,” David breathed before he swallowed the hard length, felt the tip bump against the back of his throat. He didn’t gag, so used to this, wanting this, and Cook felt the telltale tightening in his groin. His hand fell from David’s head and grasped his crisply arranged collar and hauled him up on his lap. Cook attacked his mouth, growling when David kissed back with just as much ferocity. “Need to fuck you,” Cook snarled hungrily as his hands swiftly unfastened buttons on David’s shirt and pants, pulled down the shiny zipper and engulfed the boy's own erection. David whimpered, his tongue tangled with the older man’s, and nodded frantically. “Yes, yes, oh gosh, yes. Take me, Cook,” he said it like he meant ‘fuck.’
He didn’t really think about anything else after (because nothing else mattered but skin and heat and fucking David Archuleta) as he tugged down the black pants. They fell sideways on the seat, which felt too cramped for this, too unsteady, and fuck if that didn’t add to the fire eating away at Cook’s veins. When the pants and underwear came off, revealing the red angry cock between David’s legs, Cook couldn’t help but push himself up on his elbows and have a taste. Cook’s legs were bent, pressed against the side of the car, and David was sitting on his chest, mewling as Cook sucked him.
The limo drove on, turning and riding over little bumps on the road, and Cook sat to his knees, pushing David back gently to reverse their positions with one hand cradling the back of the younger boy’s head so he wouldn’t hit it on the car door. Little pleading noises fell from David’s lips, a kind of music that Cook hadn’t heard in months, and the saliva pooled in his mouth, making David’s cock glisten from it. Shaky hands grasped the one supporting his head and brought it to the front of his face, slipped it into his mouth. His tongue laved the digits in earnest, staring hazily into Cook’s eyes, whose dick twitched at the sight.
Then David, his pupils blown, pulled them out with a wet pop and said, “Don’t be gentle.”
Cook’s blood drowned out any other sound (except for the delicious noises that came from David) and he did as he was told because fuck, David owned him. He slipped his middle finger into David’s hole and at the same time sucked on his erection. David’s hips bucked, his fingers digging into Cook’s shoulders. The older man wriggled the finger, trying to loosen it more, and inserted another one (David’s panting was driving him crazy), scissoring and stretching the fucking tight orifice. He curled them just so against the gland that had David shrieking, hands clamping over the sound, even as he pushed down on Cook’s fingers.
“Cook, Cook, Cook, please,” came David’s muffled cries as he arched off the seat. Cook hastily put a third finger in, fucking him with them, because he was going to lose his goddamn mind if he wasn’t inside David in the next second.
“Oh my gosh,” David all but yelled, tone colored with impatience, “just do it already!”
Cook gave a feral grin, face and neck bathed in sweat, as he took his fingers out. He sat up and wrapped a hand around David’s tie, pulling him up using the silk fabric, jacket and shirt separating at the movement to reveal the younger boy’s smooth, golden torso. David climbed on his lap just as Cook twisted to lean back against the seat, feet planted firmly on the floor. The car turned and they went with the movement. Cook spat at his hand and tugged on his cock a few times.
David was on his knees, poised above Cook’s straining cock, and the boy grasped it as he lowered himself inch by agonizing inch. The head poked through the ring of muscles, causing a hitch in David’s breath, and Cook leaned closer to mouth on one of his nipples as a distraction.
“Come on, baby,” Cook urged in a voice so low it almost disappeared. David licked his lips and sank down, swallowed Cook’s dick; slowly at first, then faster as he got used to the burning stretch, until fucking hell he’d engulfed Cook to the hilt and the heat tightness heat heat heat had Cook biting on his own tongue.
“Nggnh,” David whimpered as Cook shallowly thrust into him, his hands gripping Cook’s shoulders for support. “Cook.”
“I know, I know baby,” Cook gasped as he plunged harder, deeper on that sensitive gland, rocking them both to their own rhythm that was slowly driving them mad. David wheezed and kissed him, sticking his tongue into Cook’s panting mouth as he boldly met the older man’s movements, impaling and fucking himself on his boyfriend until they both started seeing stars.
Curses fell from Cook’s lips, a steady stream of filth that had David shuddering as his own words grew more garbled, bitten-down oh gosh and please and Cook Cook harder, yes, please. Cook’s large hand wrapped around David’s leaking cock, pumping him in a relentless pace that had the boy thrashing above him, their kiss broken. Cook licked is lips, enjoying the sight of David bouncing on his lap, lips so red they looked bloody but what the hell, his neck looked too untouched and so Cook bit on it, dragging his teeth on the flushed skin.
“I, I, I,” David whined breathlessly as he closed his eyes tightly, sweat shining on his skin, his hands twisting on Cook’s sodden shirt. “I’m, I’m going to - ”
Cook growled and captured his lips, taking the last of David’s breath away. “Come for me, David.”
And David did, noisily: his body grew rigid, chin pinkish from beard-burn, his mouth slackening against Cook’s (oh oh oh oh), cock spilling over and muscles gripping so tightly around the older man’s dick that he jumped right over the edge after David.
“Fuck,” Cook hissed as he threw back his head, letting the pleasure rip through him until he broke from the center, overcome by the white-hot ecstasy that left him momentarily robbed of his breath, his thought, his heartbeat.
(Predictably, the tears came, mixing with the sweat and saliva).
It was the soft rocking motion of the car that slowly brought back Cook’s senses. David was plastered against him, breathing sharply on the side of his neck, and an absolute mess between them. Cook felt blissfully tired, his limbs heavy as he enveloped David in them.
Cook opened his mouth and something like a croak came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. “David, baby, I think we have to cancel that reservation.”
David mumbled against his collarbone, face tucked perfectly into the curve of Cook’s shoulder. “T-There…there never was a, um, reservation.”
“What?”
David gently shook his head and slipped his hand into Cook’s crumpled jacket, taking out the folded list.
“Happy birthday, Cook.”
-
The End (I wish I was the driver and the limo wasn’t soundproof)
Rating: NC17
Pairing: David Archuleta/David Cook
Fandom: American Idol (real person slash)
Warnings: slash, real person slash, descriptions of an explicit nature
Disclaimer: I do not own these people because they own themselves. I want an Archie of my own, though. Badly.
A/N: So no one really approved my claim at cookleta_ptof but hey, who says no to porn, right? Bipolar-mood is looking up, though. I'm not even going to apologize for the descriptive wordiness of it all. Number 67 - in the back of a limo
By: writingpickle
-
(reaching out) touching me, touching you
-
David Cook had the bad habit of tearing up over (admittedly) sentimental moments. Like that time his high school crush had agreed to go to prom with him. Or when he’d met Neal Tiemann for the first time and the other man, ever caustic, had clapped him on the back and said, “Dude, you’ve got real talent,” when he’d feared the opposite (of course, that moment had been greatly altered for future retellings - without the tears - and Neal went along with it because it was great blackmail material).
Winning American Idol was perhaps the one exception where his tears were called for. And afterwards, when Cook had kissed (and fondled) David Archuleta in his exhilaration and prompted the confession that was the beginning of everything.
So it was a well-established fact that David Cook was a considerable sap who often seized on any excuse to cry. The sight of David (who was supposed to be flying back home to Utah after his recently ended tour) in a dark suit, holding a bouquet of blood-red roses in his arms, and standing in front of a sleek limo had Cook blinking back tears.
“Happy birthday,” David beamed, eyes crinkled and glowing.
“Oh my god,” Cook said and quickly drew the younger boy in for a crushing hug as David thrust the arm carrying the roses away from the hold. “What are you doing here?”
David tilted his head back, expression mischievous. “Aren’t you happy I’m here? Oh gosh, Cook, after all the effort I put - ”
Cook kissed him, cutting off the teasing words. “I’m definitely,” peck, “completely,” smooch, “utterly,” kiss, “ecstatic that you’re here, baby. I meant, you’re supposed to be on your way to Utah. But god, it’s so good to see you.”
David laughed and shook his head. “It’s your birthday, we have to celebrate it! Besides, I missed you too much,” he said with a shy curve of lips. “Oh, here, I bought you these.”
Cook got an armful of roses and he grinned affectionately at the shorter boy. “Thanks baby, I feel like a princess right now.”
David rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Come on, you need to be dressed and ready in exactly thirty minutes or our dinner reservations will be totally cancelled.”
“We’re…eating out?”
“I didn’t just, like, rent the limo for effect,” David said with a huff and pushed the older man towards the house.
Cook let himself be led away. “I was wondering why Janet insisted on dry-cleaning my one good suit. Sneaky, did you get my assistant to collaborate with you?”
“I had to make sure you were free,” David muttered as color flooded his cheeks.
Cook wondered how long David had been planning this, especially since the younger boy didn’t have all that much free time during his Christmas tour. He also thought about Lupe and Jeff and what they thought of this unexpected visit. He decided not to bring that up tonight, especially since it was obvious how much work David put into this. Before Cook went into his bedroom, he grabbed the boy’s hand and drew him in for another kiss, expertly parting David’s lips and snaking his tongue inside. David hummed and melted against him, before his eyes widened and he pushed Cook away.
“Reservations!” David said with a firm shove towards the door. “Here, give me those flowers. I can, I’ll put them in a vase for you.”
Cook handed them over and jogged into his bedroom. It was a good thing that he’d taken a quick shower before David had arrived (that boy was ridiculously lucky sometimes), so it took less time to prepare. He took the suit from the closet and put it on, doing the cufflinks and forgoing the tie. He undid the top buttons on his shirt, letting a hint of skin peek through, and ran a comb through his hair. Cook heard David’s singing float through the open door, which deepened the grin that lingered on his face. Fuck, he loved that boy so much.
When he was satisfied with his appearance (much quicker than usual because David was standing outside his door in an unsubtle attempt to hurry him), Cook was about to walk out when he remembered something. He went over to the bedside table and took out a yellowed piece of paper and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He grinned; David was just asking for it, with the limo and all. He wouldn’t put it past the younger boy to have set this whole thing up just to cross out that number. It didn’t fit with David’s image at all, but then again, neither did ‘gets turned on by bar fights.’
He stopped in front of David and spread his arms. “Do I fit the bill?”
David looked at him from under his lashes, a sassy head to toe assessment with his lips pulled in a secretive smile that had Cook’s blood in a slow boil. “I think you’ll do.”
-
The inside of the limo was luxurious, from the wine-colored leather upholstery, the wood and leather on the doors and panels, and a black privacy panel that separated them from the hired driver.
Cook stretched on the seat, appreciative of the spacious leg room, and dropped his arm on David’s shoulders. “Where are we having dinner, babe?”
“That’s a secret.”
“Are you going to blindfold me too?”
“Um,” David wrinkled his nose. “I think, are you referring to something else?”
Cook laughed. “Maybe on your birthday, David.”
David stared at him for a moment, unblinking, until Cook’s forehead wrinkled. The younger boy glanced down at his watch. “David?”
Without a word, David moved forward and pressed on the button that had the privacy panel sliding down halfway. “Um, excuse me, could you circle the block a few times? Or um, until I say it’s okay to head to the restaurant?”
The driver glanced at him from the rearview mirror. “Yeah,” the man grunted and David let the panel go back up all the way.
“What about our reservation?” Cook asked, confused. “Babe? Are we heading somewhere else?”
David turned to him, cheeks flushed and eyes dark. “No. I think I should give you a part of your birthday present early.”
Then David fell to his knees in that wide space and wriggled up between Cook’s legs.
Desire made his mouth dry, desire so hot that Cook swayed a bit (it could have been the sudden turn the car took but he doubted it because fuck, David was right there, wetting his lips and undoing Cook’s pants). One of his hands gripped David’s hair, which was its usual place whenever David was in this position. David licked his lips again, leaving them partly open, as he drew out Cook’s already thick erection from his pants (thank God Cook followed his instinct not to wear underwear tonight).
Just the feel of his warm hand, after so long without it, had Cook sucking in a deep breath. “Fuck, David.”
“You’d like that,” David murmured huskily as he licked the head almost playfully, eliciting a groan. His other hand gripped Cook’s thigh and as he lowered his head, the shadows on his face twisted the corners of his mouth into a smirk. Maybe he was smirking, knowing that he had Cook in his control.
Cook was panting, arching his hips wantonly. He goddamn loved it when David was aggressive, which didn’t happen enough, and he let out a loud moan when his dick sank into the wet (wet, so wet) and warm cavern of David’s mouth. His fingers weaved tightly through the boy’s short hair, tugging lightly at the suction he felt all around his cock, his legs spreading apart and tensing from the pleasure.
David’s eyes flickered up to his, hooded and heavy and dilated, and pulled back up, tracing his tongue along the pulsing vein. “I’ve missed your taste, Cook.”
Cook gritted his teeth, hips snapping up at the gritty-want sound of David’s voice. To his alarm, he couldn’t find the voice to say anything, so choked up on the hazy red cloud that settled over him. David kept on murmuring as he bobbed his head, sucking him in and out, in and out, in and out. Cook’s free hand scrabbled against the leather seat as he tried his best to keep his gaze in David’s.
David reached into Cook’s pants and fondled his balls, rolling them in his palm one by one, lips tightening around the base. He dragged them up in an agonizingly slow motion, went back down, and let his teeth graze ever so lightly on the shaft. Cook’s breath hitched and he felt like all the air was leaving his body; his chest felt too tight, his head spinning from the sensations that originated from where his boy touched him.
“Oh Cook,” David breathed before he swallowed the hard length, felt the tip bump against the back of his throat. He didn’t gag, so used to this, wanting this, and Cook felt the telltale tightening in his groin. His hand fell from David’s head and grasped his crisply arranged collar and hauled him up on his lap. Cook attacked his mouth, growling when David kissed back with just as much ferocity. “Need to fuck you,” Cook snarled hungrily as his hands swiftly unfastened buttons on David’s shirt and pants, pulled down the shiny zipper and engulfed the boy's own erection. David whimpered, his tongue tangled with the older man’s, and nodded frantically. “Yes, yes, oh gosh, yes. Take me, Cook,” he said it like he meant ‘fuck.’
He didn’t really think about anything else after (because nothing else mattered but skin and heat and fucking David Archuleta) as he tugged down the black pants. They fell sideways on the seat, which felt too cramped for this, too unsteady, and fuck if that didn’t add to the fire eating away at Cook’s veins. When the pants and underwear came off, revealing the red angry cock between David’s legs, Cook couldn’t help but push himself up on his elbows and have a taste. Cook’s legs were bent, pressed against the side of the car, and David was sitting on his chest, mewling as Cook sucked him.
The limo drove on, turning and riding over little bumps on the road, and Cook sat to his knees, pushing David back gently to reverse their positions with one hand cradling the back of the younger boy’s head so he wouldn’t hit it on the car door. Little pleading noises fell from David’s lips, a kind of music that Cook hadn’t heard in months, and the saliva pooled in his mouth, making David’s cock glisten from it. Shaky hands grasped the one supporting his head and brought it to the front of his face, slipped it into his mouth. His tongue laved the digits in earnest, staring hazily into Cook’s eyes, whose dick twitched at the sight.
Then David, his pupils blown, pulled them out with a wet pop and said, “Don’t be gentle.”
Cook’s blood drowned out any other sound (except for the delicious noises that came from David) and he did as he was told because fuck, David owned him. He slipped his middle finger into David’s hole and at the same time sucked on his erection. David’s hips bucked, his fingers digging into Cook’s shoulders. The older man wriggled the finger, trying to loosen it more, and inserted another one (David’s panting was driving him crazy), scissoring and stretching the fucking tight orifice. He curled them just so against the gland that had David shrieking, hands clamping over the sound, even as he pushed down on Cook’s fingers.
“Cook, Cook, Cook, please,” came David’s muffled cries as he arched off the seat. Cook hastily put a third finger in, fucking him with them, because he was going to lose his goddamn mind if he wasn’t inside David in the next second.
“Oh my gosh,” David all but yelled, tone colored with impatience, “just do it already!”
Cook gave a feral grin, face and neck bathed in sweat, as he took his fingers out. He sat up and wrapped a hand around David’s tie, pulling him up using the silk fabric, jacket and shirt separating at the movement to reveal the younger boy’s smooth, golden torso. David climbed on his lap just as Cook twisted to lean back against the seat, feet planted firmly on the floor. The car turned and they went with the movement. Cook spat at his hand and tugged on his cock a few times.
David was on his knees, poised above Cook’s straining cock, and the boy grasped it as he lowered himself inch by agonizing inch. The head poked through the ring of muscles, causing a hitch in David’s breath, and Cook leaned closer to mouth on one of his nipples as a distraction.
“Come on, baby,” Cook urged in a voice so low it almost disappeared. David licked his lips and sank down, swallowed Cook’s dick; slowly at first, then faster as he got used to the burning stretch, until fucking hell he’d engulfed Cook to the hilt and the heat tightness heat heat heat had Cook biting on his own tongue.
“Nggnh,” David whimpered as Cook shallowly thrust into him, his hands gripping Cook’s shoulders for support. “Cook.”
“I know, I know baby,” Cook gasped as he plunged harder, deeper on that sensitive gland, rocking them both to their own rhythm that was slowly driving them mad. David wheezed and kissed him, sticking his tongue into Cook’s panting mouth as he boldly met the older man’s movements, impaling and fucking himself on his boyfriend until they both started seeing stars.
Curses fell from Cook’s lips, a steady stream of filth that had David shuddering as his own words grew more garbled, bitten-down oh gosh and please and Cook Cook harder, yes, please. Cook’s large hand wrapped around David’s leaking cock, pumping him in a relentless pace that had the boy thrashing above him, their kiss broken. Cook licked is lips, enjoying the sight of David bouncing on his lap, lips so red they looked bloody but what the hell, his neck looked too untouched and so Cook bit on it, dragging his teeth on the flushed skin.
“I, I, I,” David whined breathlessly as he closed his eyes tightly, sweat shining on his skin, his hands twisting on Cook’s sodden shirt. “I’m, I’m going to - ”
Cook growled and captured his lips, taking the last of David’s breath away. “Come for me, David.”
And David did, noisily: his body grew rigid, chin pinkish from beard-burn, his mouth slackening against Cook’s (oh oh oh oh), cock spilling over and muscles gripping so tightly around the older man’s dick that he jumped right over the edge after David.
“Fuck,” Cook hissed as he threw back his head, letting the pleasure rip through him until he broke from the center, overcome by the white-hot ecstasy that left him momentarily robbed of his breath, his thought, his heartbeat.
(Predictably, the tears came, mixing with the sweat and saliva).
It was the soft rocking motion of the car that slowly brought back Cook’s senses. David was plastered against him, breathing sharply on the side of his neck, and an absolute mess between them. Cook felt blissfully tired, his limbs heavy as he enveloped David in them.
Cook opened his mouth and something like a croak came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. “David, baby, I think we have to cancel that reservation.”
David mumbled against his collarbone, face tucked perfectly into the curve of Cook’s shoulder. “T-There…there never was a, um, reservation.”
“What?”
David gently shook his head and slipped his hand into Cook’s crumpled jacket, taking out the folded list.
“Happy birthday, Cook.”
-
The End (I wish I was the driver and the limo wasn’t soundproof)